


The Kind You Save

by brinnabot



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Captain America: Civil War, Gen, I haven't seen the movie yet but this is a fic based on my theories on how it will end, I just needed to write angst, I've seen a tiny bit of spoilers but really don't know anything, and injury, possible spoilers??, there is some blood
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 04:20:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6641236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnabot/pseuds/brinnabot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I took all the info I've read about the upcoming movie, and stuff Seb and Chris have said about their characters, and screencaps from the trailers and concept art and... I guess this fic is just my prediction on how it might end.<br/>It has a lot of angst.<br/>And yes it does mention how Steve and Bucky love each other but you can interpret that love in whatever way you'd like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kind You Save

**Author's Note:**

> This is from Bucky's point of view...

_**“Bucky, no!”** _

The world around him was spinning out of control. Steve’s voice echoed around in his head along with blasts and screams and the sound of metal hitting metal. His vision just refused to cooperate, leaving gaps of black and then blurry light. For a moment, he completely forgot where he was and what he was doing there…

Blinking slowly and painfully, Bucky saw that he was on the ground, on his back. Then his vision cut out again, his mind was hazy, he couldn’t even tell if he was breathing…

_Get up. Where’s Steve…_

Sheering pain shot up into his left shoulder, causing him to cry out in pain. The black emptiness in his vision cut away to red, hot pain. _Fuck!_

He desperately tried to bend his left elbow. Nothing. Wiggle his fingers. Nothing. They wouldn’t move. All he felt was pain. Gritting his teeth, he managed to look over to the left to asses the damage. What he saw made his heart stop.

_Holy shit..._

A tangled mess of metal was all that remained of his arm above the elbow. Sharp edges shot out. Wires were bent in all directions, frayed at the edges, and were still pulsing with electric currents which shot tiny sparks out as a result. Blood trailed down from his shoulder, pooling in the crevices of the metal as it traveled. The thick red currants started hitting the concrete below him. 

He was losing a lot of blood. Every inch of the fused edge between his flesh and his metal arm burned worse than he had ever felt before, as if someone had tried to pull it right off of him…

_**“Wait!”** _

A voice cut through the haze. _Steve? No, doesn’t sound like Steve…_

Then everything came back in flashes… _Steve was down, that was the last straw. Blind rage took over as Bucky slammed his metal arm down and grabbed hold of the arc reactor on Tony’s suit. **Take it out and he’s exposed…**_

_Tony whipped both of his hands up and wrapped them around Bucky’s arm in an attempt to get him to let go. Bucky didn’t budge. His grip on the power cell became stronger and stronger, but so did Tony’s grip on his arm._

_After what felt like being struck by lightning, Bucky found himself on the ground, bleeding…_

It was getting hard to stay focused now. He stared blankly at his shredded arm as his consciousness slipped away piece by piece…

Suddenly the air was filled with the sounds of deafening metal against metal and what sounded like a few pieces flying off and ricocheting against the concrete floor. Then one loud slam and a painful outcry.

The loud noises brought Bucky momentarily back to reality. He was able to slowly turn his head around and attempt to face the action, the side of his face falling weakly to the floor as he struggled to stay awake. The world was spinning again, his stomach was sick, his lungs felt crushed. Sweat dripped down his face as he struggled to breathe, and blood continued to pool on the floor. _Maybe this is it._

_**“Stay down!”** _

_Steve? He’s okay!_

With every ounce of strength left in his body, Bucky lifted his remaining arm and attempted to push himself up... Steve was still alive, his job wasn’t done yet. He gritted his teeth as the deafening ring in his head grew louder. Shooting pains from what felt like a deep bruise on his abdomen caused him to cry out. Tears started to stream down his cheeks. _No no no, I gotta get up…_

Bucky’s arm was shaking violently while it tried to hold his weight. Everything was falling apart. And after everything he fought against the past few days, the past few years… the last 70 years, really, Bucky felt like maybe it was time to let go. He didn’t want to be in pain anymore. He didn’t want to cause pain anymore. He _did_ want a normal life again but he always kept it in the back of his mind that maybe normal wasn’t possible… being at peace with everything he’s done certainly wasn’t possible.

But there was Steve. He was the light that broke through the darkness. Every moment of torture Bucky endured seemed worth it to him when Steve was there. If he were to be very honest, Bucky wouldn’t have been fighting as hard as he was if Steve wasn’t by his side every step of the way. 

When memories of his Winter Soldier days came to the surface, it took every ounce of willpower not to rip himself apart. It was all anger and pain and confusion and guilt. The weight of his actions sought to drag him down farther and farther into the dark. Those were the nights he woke up screaming. Sometimes it felt like he was falling, waking up just before the harsh impact into the frozen ground as he desperately tried to grasp onto something or someone that wasn’t there anymore.

But then there were the memories from his life before the war, before it was all snatched away. Tidbits of information floated in, sometimes oddly specific details. But what Bucky remembered more than anything were the feelings… Colors and warmth… Small moments of silence… Bucky’s world was never silent, now. But some refuge came in the form of quiet moments in his mind as the sun gently drifted through the window to settle on golden blond hair, making it glow. It came in the laughs in the dark below the stars. It came in the caressing touches he placed on bloodied knees and knuckles. 

Bucky wanted so much to remember those days, wanted so much to find the missing pieces and have everything fall into place. He wanted it so badly that sometimes he couldn’t breathe from the aching need that took over in those moments. Those moments often led to him frantically searching through every written down memory he had, shifting page after page into place with shaking hands. It was a miracle if more than a few scribbled sentences made sense when placed next to each other. He wasn’t ever sure if one event happened before or after another, or if it was even real.

No matter what, Bucky knew that whoever he was back then… That’s not who he was anymore. 

There were times when he was so afraid that his Winter Soldier days would never back down. How many times had he attacked Steve the past few days when all his friend wanted to do was help him? How many lives had he put in danger because his mind wasn’t strong enough to fight back? And yet he had people fighting, risking their own lives, to defend him. Bucky took that friendship and love and support and he ran with it. But through every hardship he faced, the most difficult thing was to find the parts of himself that Steve seemed to cling to. He wasn’t sure if they were even there anymore, and he became afraid that Steve had grabbed hold of something that no long existed.

He was lost in about as many ways as someone could be. Bucky was never meant to be here in this time, in this situation, with these people. But the reality of it was the he single handedly created the world that he was dragged into. _He_ created the chaos and mistrust and anger. _He_ created the corruption that Steve fought against everyday. How ironic it was that the two of them would find each other again after a lifetime of misfortunes. To Steve, it was a miracle. But Bucky saw straight through the aura of miracles… This was no miracle. Fate, maybe, but not a miracle. It was the universe coming together to shove two lost soldiers back together even though there wasn’t a plan for them to stay together. It was a cruel hoax. The last laugh in a 70 year long practical joke.

The crushing weight of this realization overcame Bucky as his arm buckled, causing him to crash back down onto the stone ground beneath him. A slow, rocky breath left his lips. Sickening warmth crept into every muscle, numbing him to the bone. His body was giving up on him. 

For a moment he thought about everything Steve’s allies and friends… _his_ allies and friends… had sacrificed for him. He thought about what losing him would do to Steve. He thought about all the ways he could try and make up for the pain he caused. For those reasons, deep down Bucky wanted to live. It was for those reasons that he wouldn’t want give up, fighting and scratching his way back to life.

But now the fight he had deep down was dying along with everything else. It was all too much. If this was the way that things were going to end, then he should accept it.

Bucky’s breathing was choppy and shallow. The world was narrowing down. All the pain began to seep away… It made him oddly relaxed.

_**“Hey, Buck... Bucky, c’mon..”** _

The blurry image of of Steve Rogers appeared. He was leaning down over him to the point where their noses were almost touching. Bucky felt a hand gently caress his cheek and attempt to wipe away the grime and blood. Another hand felt around his left shoulder, assessing the damage.

_**“We gotta get him out of here.”** _

Bucky cringed at Steve’s words. 

When Steve had finally tracked Bucky down, he was at his most vulnerable point. He was tired, confused, lost… and while he remembered Steve, he didn’t _really_ remember him. But Bucky knew he was someone he could count on, someone he could run with and feel protected. It was only through exposure and time that Bucky began to see the Steve he grew up with, the Steve he fought a war with… the Steve he loved and cherished.

The truth of it all was that neither of them were the people the other saw them as. Not really. Bucky couldn’t remember everything about his Steve, and Steve couldn’t see all the broken parts of his Bucky.

But that never once made Steve’s devotion to his long lost friend falter. And Bucky knew that his undying reserve to protect him would ultimately destroy him. 

Bucky was a lost cause. He knew that about himself, especially now as the already cracked world around him finally started to shatter, but Steve refused to see it. And now his friend’s efforts were going to go to waste and destroy him in the process. Bucky couldn’t let that happen. Steve deserved to live, to be happy, to be rid of all this guilt and pain. He needed him to see that for himself.

Bucky tried his best to take a deep breath, but stabbing pains stopped him. He gasped, causing Steve to grasp his face with both hands now.

 _ **“Don’t…”**_ Bucky managed to get one word out before his lungs closed up again.

The last thing he saw was Steve’s face, a single tear rolling down his cheek. Bucky had no strength left to say anything more. He was so tired… His eyelids started to droop, his remaining limbs felt as heavy as lead… And then everything went dark and every pain melted away.

Steve was going to have to learn to let go.

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how long the next chapter will be, but it will be from Steve's point of view. Stay tuned.


End file.
